reet, to go back and investigate the matter.
The tavern was beyond the school-house, at a little distance from the
village,--as, indeed, it should have been, to insure sleep to its
quiet-loving inhabitants. As I approached the school-house again, I saw
Miss Darry, warmly muffled for the drive home, walking also in the
direction of the tavern. "She surely cannot know what rough men go
there," I thought, and, conquering my awkwardness, I ran after her.

"Miss Darry!" I cried, when within a few steps of her. She turned, and I
strode to her side. "I am going to the tavern to look after your driver;
it will never do for you to go there alone. Hadn't you better go back to
the school-house and wait for me?" I said.

"You must have a great deal of native gallantry, Sandy. One would
imagine, from your lot in life, you had not been used to seeing women
shielded from disagreeable duties. I will go on with you, and wait
outside," she answered, smiling. So we walked on together.

The sleigh stood before the tavern-door. A warm buffalo was thrown over
the horse, who was, nevertheless, pawing impatiently in the snow, as if
aware that it was time to go home. Asking Miss Darry to get into the
sleigh, for I would not have taken the liberty of assisting her for the
world, I hastened up the low wooden steps, and, pushing open the door,
stood inside the bar-room. I had heard snatches of song, as we drew
near, and, afraid lest they should reach Miss Darry's ear also, I closed
it after me. A few of the village loafers were there, with the addition
of one or two less harmless characters, who, strolling through the
country, had tarried here for refreshment and a frolic: among the latter
was the man for whom Miss Darry was waiting, stretched in a state of
intoxication on the floor. I made my exit as soon as by a glance I
comprehended matters, yet not soon enough to escape the recognition of
the villagers, who cried out, "Come on, Sandy Allen!--don't slink off
that way!--let's have a drink!"

As I stood by the sleigh, explaining to Miss Darry the condition of her
driver, a crowd of the half-drunken fellows came out of the tavern, and
staggered down the path toward us. I had not the courage to offer to
drive her home, but she did not wait for me to grow bolder.

"Jump in, Sandy,--no, not on the front seat,--here by me. I am afraid of
those men. Besides, I want to talk with you."

So I seated myself next her, drew the warm robe over us both, a